


Waiting There For You

by schlicky



Category: Generation Kill
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-08
Updated: 2010-09-08
Packaged: 2017-10-16 21:31:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/169554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/schlicky/pseuds/schlicky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Originally intended for Porn Battle X, but not quite finished in time. Prompts used are ink, rain, and unspoken. All mistakes are my own.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Waiting There For You

**Author's Note:**

> Originally intended for Porn Battle X, but not quite finished in time. Prompts used are ink, rain, and unspoken. All mistakes are my own.

Ray comes in through the front door and kicks it shut behind him, humming softly to himself under his breath as he toes his shoes off, leaving them on the mat by the door. He drops the grocery bag he's carrying on the counter in the kitchen as he cuts through it – it’s nothing that needs immediate attention. He pauses when he's in the doorway to the bedroom, caught up in watching Brad as he moves around the space, collecting odds and ends and packing them in the military duffel laid out on the bed.

Next to the duffel there are stacks of socks, and black briefs, and everything else Brad's supposed to take with him.

Ray tips his head to lean it against the doorjamb, feeling a cold weight settle in the pit of his stomach. He's not sure exactly how long he stands in the doorway before Brad notices him.

"Hey," Brad greets him, flashing a small smile. He pauses somewhere between the shared dresser and their bed. "You're wet."

"That's what he said." Ray tries to smile, but he's not sure he succeeds, and the look Brad gives him only confirms that suspicion. "It's starting to rain," he amends as he steps further into the room.

As if proving his point, there's suddenly a loud crack of thunder that has them both looking toward the big window in their room that overlooks the backyard. Brad arches an eyebrow. "Well, you know what they say."

Ray arches an eyebrow back, trying not to smile when Brad crowds into his personal space, long fingers lifting the hem of his soaked t-shirt. "Mm, no. What do they say?" he asks quietly, tilting his head back enough that he can nip lightly at Brad's jawline.

"You'll get sick if you stay in those wet clothes," Brad replies. The hand not pushing Ray's t-shirt up his chest slides down to grab a handful of his ass, squeezing. "So you should take them off. For health reasons."

Ray gives a breathy laugh. "Is that an order, Sergeant?" The laugh turns into an almost-moan when his shoulder blades make solid contact with the wall behind him, and Brad's hands deftly undo the button of his jeans, dragging the zipper down. "You gonna tell me to take a hot shower, too?"

"No, I've got a few other ideas for warming you up." When Brad lowers himself to his knees, he takes Ray's jeans with him.

"Jesus, Brad." Ray's breath hitches in his chest and he curls one hand around the back of Brad's head. He laughs softly when his wet jeans get stuck somewhere around his knees. He shifts his hands to settle on Brad's shoulders, using him for balance as Brad struggles with the denim. He lifts one foot and then the other so that Brad can tug them the rest of the way off.

Triumphant, Brad slings Ray's jeans carelessly behind him. He leans forward to mouth Ray's hipbone as his fingers find the elastic waistband of the navy boxer-briefs, carefully pulling them down over Ray's rising erection.

Ray's hand finds the back of Brad's head again, and his mouth drops open in a perfect, soundless O when Brad takes the head of Ray's cock into his mouth. He lets his head fall back against the wall, the sound of the dull thud joining the rush of blood in his ears. "Fuck."

Brad moans appreciatively and sucks a little harder, drawing another curse out of Ray. He shuffles a little closer on his knees, doesn't mind when Ray's hand applies a gentle pressure to the back of his head, coaxing. He slides his hands from where they're resting against Ray's hips around to run over the skin of his ass. Brad squeezes both cheeks and pulls Ray into him as much as Ray's pushing him down until he's almost got Ray's entire erection down his throat.

Ray makes this noise - almost like a moan mixed with a stuttered breath.

Brad feels Ray's fingers flex against his scalp, and he's sure if his hair were long enough to grab, Ray would be doing just that.

"Brad." The name is low and breathy, and Ray slides his hands down the back of Brad's neck and back to press into his shoulder blades. He bunches the fabric between his fingers and starts to pull it up.

The crooked grin Brad flashes him when he pulls off Ray's cock is absolute filth, but he helps Ray take his shirt off. He presses a kiss to the head of Ray's cock and then starts to work his way up Ray's body from there. Brad stops to pay special attention to the dark lines of ink along Ray's chest.

Ray lets his hands travel down Brad's back as he stands, fingers applying firm pressure. He hisses softly when Brad lands a biting kiss on the left star, and then he pinches him lightly when he does it again to the right one. "That hurts, fucknuts."

"Ray?"

"What?" Ray asks impatiently, tipping his head back a little as Brad starts to mouth his way up Ray's throat.

Brad nips playfully at his Adam's Apple and smacks Ray once on his left ass cheek. "Shut the fuck up and get on the fucking bed."

"Yes, sergeant." Ray thinks it's probably pretty fucked up that he refers to Brad by rank more in the bedroom than he ever did while they were serving together, but whatever. He brushes past Brad and climbs onto their huge bed, situating himself on his hands and knees in the center of it. He's careful not to disturb Brad's collection of things on the edge of the mattress. Ray swallows when he hears Brad's jeans hit the floor and concentrates on the absurd thread count of the blue sheets rather than how hard he is. "Any day now, Brad."

"I told you to shut up," Brad says, not without affection.

Ray smirks, tips his head down further so Brad won't see it. "Seriously, homes. Before I'm fucking decrepit would be nice."

With his ass in the air like that, Brad can't resist. He gets two handfuls of Ray's ass, uses his thumbs to spread him open. He loves the sound Ray makes when he gives his asshole a slow, broad lick. He does it over and over again until he can feel Ray's muscles shaking with the effort of holding himself up. "God, you're sexy," Brad tells him, and sucks a hickey on the back of Ray's leg, just under the curve of his ass.

Ray makes a tortured little noise that's perilously close to a whine. His hips push back against Brad's hands.

Brad takes the hint and dives in again, pressing his tongue inside this time. He knows Ray is close to coming when he gives a high, choked-off moan. He slides one of his hands around Ray's hip to close his fingers over Ray's cock. He only has to pump his fist a handful of times.

Ray comes with a shout, his whole body shaking.

Brad rubs his hand up the length of Ray's spine as he licks Ray through his orgasm. He gives Ray a minute or two to recover before he coaxes him flat onto his stomach in the middle of their bed, and straddles the backs of his thighs. He takes his own cock into his hand, rubs the head of it over Ray's entrance, pink and puffy and wet from his tongue. Even though Ray asks for it, Brad doesn't push in. He slides his cock between Ray's ass cheeks and starts a steady rhythm with his hips, using his hand to keep himself there, adding just a little more friction.

"Yeah, Brad," Ray says, still breathless from his own orgasm. He turns his head to the side so Brad can hear him, pillows his head on his arms. "You feel so good. Fucking amazing. You gonna come for me?"

Brad growls, low in his throat, and uses his free hand to land a smack on Ray's ass cheek.

Ray just gives a filthy moan in response and squeezes his ass around Brad's cock. "Want your come. Want you to come all over me, like - "

Brad comes hard, and doesn't hear the rest of what Ray says, because he nearly fucking  _passes out._

After, Ray lies flat on his back and stares up at the ceiling fan, watches the blades spin in lazy circles. He can still hear the rain coming down outside, though the lightning and thunder has stopped. "Your hair is getting long," he murmurs as he absently runs his fingers through Brad's hair. He hears the hum drift up to him from where Brad has his head pillowed on Ray's sternum.

"I was going to cut it in the morning," Brad answers, his voice thick with impending sleep.

Ray knows the exact moment that Brad drifts off because the hand curled over his hip slackens a little. He heaves a quiet sigh and kicks the half-packed duffel off the edge of the bed.

  


* * *

  


It's still dark outside when they crawl out of bed the next morning. Ray busies himself in the kitchen making a pot of coffee and heating up a couple of croissants while Brad finishes packing. They sit naked in the middle of their bed to eat breakfast, talking quietly about everything and nothing.

It isn't until they're standing in the remodeled shower surrounded by falling water and thick steam that Ray softly says, "I'll miss you."

Brad doesn't say anything in response. He just wraps Ray up tightly in his arms and kisses him. Long, soft, hungry kisses - so many that it's hard to tell where one stops and the next one begins.

The shower takes a lot longer than it normally would, but Brad had planned for that inevitability. By the time they step out of it, they're still a little ahead of schedule. Brad grabs one of the big fluffy blue towels off the hook on the wall and helps Ray dry off.

"This is really fucking gay, Colbert," Ray tells him, but doesn't complain when Brad starts towel-drying his hair.

Brad just chuckles softly and knots the towel around Ray's waist when he's done, grabbing a new one for himself.

They stand shoulder to shoulder at the sink as they both brush their teeth, which just turns into playful elbowing and nudging and name-calling. Ray spins around and hoists himself up onto the edge of the counter to watch Brad as he starts to shave.

Brad's gaze flicks away from his reflection for a minute, only long enough for him to arch an eyebrow. "What?"

Ray just shakes his head, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. "Nothing."

When Brad is done shaving, he digs through one of the drawers until he comes up with the electric clippers, which he presses into Ray's hand. "Here, make yourself useful." Brad closes the lid on the toilet and takes a seat. He ducks his head down to press his chin against his chest, and waits.

Ray runs his fingers over Brad's longer-than-regulation hair one last time before he gently starts to run the clippers through it. It doesn't take long. He sets the clippers down on the edge of the counter when he's done. "Lookin' good, Marine," he says, brushing the loose tufts of hair off Brad's shoulders.

Brad's hands come up to find his hips, thumbs tucking into the top of the towel Ray still has wound around his waist.

Ray's not surprised when his towel drops to the floor, or when Brad presses him into the wall. He just wraps his arms around Brad's broad shoulders, wraps his legs around Brad's hips, and lets Brad tell him all the things he can't seem to find the words for.

  


* * *

  


Maybe Brad hasn't ever said the words, but that doesn't mean Ray doesn't feel them in every burning look, every feather-light touch, every wide, open smile. "I'll be home soon," Brad tells him quietly, his duffel on the floor at their feet.

It's sort of a lie, but Ray smiles anyway. He tips his head back to meet Brad's lingering kiss. When they pull apart, he spends a minute or two just looking at Brad, taking in all of the little details he already has memorized a thousand times over. Ray swallows thickly and says quietly, but very firmly, "I'll be here."


End file.
